more grandmothers gifts

I am gradually sifting and sorting "things", and thought I'd share a few more precious bits that have come to me, handed down through the generations. Some I found in the past, some have come more recently on Mum's death. They are little fragments of lace and embroidery about which I know nothing. I have treasured many of them for years, tucking them away in a drawer, wrapped in acid free paper to try and ensure they don't deteriorate, though I have to confess that the little embroidered bag was once home to my marbles! I have no idea of their age, but suspect they are mostly Victorian. I do know that my great grandmother's family moved from Ireland to Liverpool in about 1869. My great great grandfather had been a Methodist Minister, travelling all around southern Ireland preaching. He lost his faith after the deaths of six children from illness in a very short space of time. Once in Liverpool the family seem to have set up as drapers, and are recorded as such in the census. My Aunt recalls her Aunt Annie doing the "most beautiful delicate smocking" on dresses, and teaching her the skill; my grandmother embroidered, knitted and worked crochet lace; Mum knitted and sewed and my Aunt is a very skilled needlewoman. I like to think that some of these things were worked by family hands, I am happy to feel that I carry on that tradition in some small way. 


Here are just a few of the treasures.

Elephant is finished

My plans for a gardening long weekend were a bit scuppered by the leg that was giving me problems a couple of weeks ago - still tender and wary of being used too much, so today after we'd been for a walk to stretch it out a bit, I sat in the garden and finished elephant.

Boy, that was a strain - hot sun, green grass, a cool drink at my side and nothing to do but sink into the gentle rhythm of hand stitching and all elephant's colours and flowers were suddenly pulled together. He has a flowery field to walk in, and a tiny shooting star overhead to bring him luck.

I did also spend a little time on my collection of small trees. I won't call them bonsai, they follow a slightly different aesthetic. No twisting wires or pretend ancient stumps, I just take what the trees offer me and edit a little. I have had the two little oaks to the left here for near on twenty years I guess, grown from acorns collected in the woods when my daughter was little and chasing wood monsters. They have been sadly neglected over the past several years. I'm hoping now to be able to treat them better, feed them more and encourage new growth to replace what has been lost.


The japanese larch below was a bought tree, and so has a more classic bonsai shape

We also have in the garden,

arum secret and magical,
hiding its inner self behind an exotic cowl

hearts of forget me nots

and pink bluebells

experiments!

I have been having fun - trying out some experimental dyeing, having been inspired by a number of good souls in the blogosphere.

India Flint creates some wonderful colourful fantasies here, and here. Jude whispers up her fibre tales here with stitch, cloth and colour, Susan is doing interesting stuff with jam jars and bits and bobs and Velma is another great source of inspiration.

I am thrilled by the way in which the Web allows all these people, whom I have never met - who don't know me, to inspire and share their creativity across miles and times zones and the world washing sea. It is an extraordinary thing to be able to see what talented souls are doing in their own private spaces and an inspiration to someone whose mother, much missed, always asked "well what are you doing to DO with it" or "you mustn't start than until you've finished this" or worst of all "is it going to make a mess in my kitchen?" - this to my request to try out batik for a school art project

Ermmmm yes Mum!

So, with a bit of inspiration, a few snippets of knowledge gathered from the web and books, I gaily embarked on my first experiment - sort of home chemistry really.

I understood from what I'd read, that when dyeing one needed to pre mordant the fabric to make the colour stick. Having nothing really to hand apart from this old aluminium saucepan (of Mum's!) and some malt vinegar, I thought that might achieve something, so simmered water and vinegar in it for about an hour, then used that to soak some of the great store of hankies I harvested from Mum's - "what are you doing with those Kath?"
"nothing Mum, just stuff".

Having created the "mordant" I steeped the hankies in this, while simmering a fat handful of onion skins in the same saucepan for about and hour'ish - you can see this is a very controlled experiment!

While that was happening I stitched some of the hankies, pulling the stitching up tight to create areas where the dye won't reach. This is my very poor tryout of a technique called shibori, which is shown in masterful style here in this, for me, fascinating insight into Japan's Shibori heartland. the skill and patience of these craftsmen and women is marvelous.



So, all this pretty amateurish "stuff" having happened to the hankies, including wrapping some bits of old iron in one of them, I simmered them for about an hour and a half - I think - ! Three were removed from the pot last night, the remaining one, with iron enwrapped, was left to steep overnight. The results this morning are three bits of golden yellow, variegated cloth on the line

 and one which I'm sure has some mythical creatures hiding in it somewhere!

Now where to go from here?

Elephant

What I’m really enjoying about this piece is the way in which the Kantha stitch, shown to perfection on Deepa's blog here, creates its own little flow of ripples across the fabric. 

I’m also enjoying the colour. The base material is hand dyed in shades of lime green through to soft blue green and almost orange. The threads are all space dyed and so as they move across the fabric, weaving in and out, the colours of each change and the contrasts and blends are delightful.

Elephant's influence is gradually flowing out across the space, but he is firmly rooted in the ground, while the stars above smile at him

the pruner's eye

Sometimes you just have to go and have a look at things with the pruners in your hand. 
This forsythia gave us a very tentative puff of flower right at the top this month, and I noticed this week that the leaves were just starting to show. Time to bring all that energy down into the lower part of the shrub. However, once my pruners and I took a closer look I realised that 85% of the plant was dead wood. This can happen with overgrown shrubs, the branches twist and twine, they get damaged, the top part dies off but, having remained there, gives no space for the rest to grow. 


I cut and looked, cut and looked, got the occasional swipe around the face for my pains - no, no health and safety police, just plain common sense - if you're pulling a large, whippy branched undisciplined mass out of the middle, turn your face away as you pull - thank heavens for deflecting spectacles!! 

Once I'd taken out all the dead wood - brittle and green with algae, I was left with a small group of sturdy stems which I have reduced in height, since they had been struggling to reach the light. Now it is just a matter of waiting to see what happens. Forsythia usually puts out good growth once it has finished flowering, so I'm anticipating at least some new shoots from the base and those stems that remain, to furnish us with flowers next year. If this fails then I'm afraid it's out with it!

I'm sure the "lawn" will appreciate the extra sunlight in the evenings - you can see the line of the fence between remaining , too tall shrubs









while below, all this lovely spring'ness, this is happening.

Meanwhile, when not outside enjoying the wonderful spring weather we are having, I have been stitching this little chap. He is a kit by Stef Francis, which I bought at the last knitting and stitching show at Alexandra Palace. I have been storing him up and was reminded of him by Joe's joyful elephant over on his blog here. I have been having such fun with this and now have got to the stage where lots of little stitches will ground everything and pull the different elements together. Perhaps he is en elemental elephant -  now there's a phrase one could play with!

Saturday Weaving

And today is my last class, so here is what has happened so far.

This is the first attempt, now severed from the frame and waiting for me to do something creative with the fringe top and bottom. It's a bit skew wiff here and there, but I'm very happy with the middle section and in this picture all the visible warp threads where Ii ended up in the wrong shed are quite INvisible, which is a good thing.

Then, with this still on the frame, I warped up a bit of space at the side of this one to try out some techniques from Kirsten Glasbrook's very useful book. I think her work is inspirational, her use of colour and the subjects of her tapestries intrigue me and make me want to practice and practice until I can at least try and do something similar. Her book is a really useful guide to techniques, with plenty of clear pictures of "here's how to ..." and some lovely pictures of her own work at the end to draw you forward.

So far I have managed this, which is not a great deal. but what there is pleases me.

Today, our last class, I am going to try and get this finished and warp up for a larger piece to give me more space to experiment.

Meanwhile, my knitting and my other bits of stitching are taking a bit of a back seat.

As my school reports always said - should try harder!!!

gradually growing

This is where my little tapestry is now.

Next class tomorrow. I'm worrying that I shouldn't have done so much, will look like a show off, will have done it all wrong and all that silly nonsense, but the activity is so fulfilling I just kept going. To begin with I was just trying out stuff; how does this colour weave in with this? why have I got two warp threads above the weft and how do I fix it? what happens when things meet and merge? But gradually the  rhythm of weaving takes over; in out in out, then easy through on the way back; colours blend and I felt the need for something planetary at the heart of the piece. I have a stash of yarns that I must have bought a good ten years ago as they "might come in useful"! They have been moved with me several times and cost all of £1.75 for a goodly pile of different colours and different lengths, all off cuts from something or other, found in a craft shop and perfectly suited to someone who is trying out some thing new but would be worried about using anything "too good" for that trying out. The shades are soft and natural and gradually this warm sun-like shape emerged. I had in mind sunsets and Jupiter. My dear one, who grew up in Africa says it is a perfect African sun sinking on the horizon. So be it. I shall take that thought and try and weave more warmth and light into it, but also darks, as without the night we have no balance or rest.